milk and honey, tea and scones
by Aly Summerset
Summary: Newt's a barista who doesn't like coffee, Tina's a RA who likes to bend the rules, Queenie loves to matchmake, and Jacob's just along for the ride. [University/Coffeeshop AU]
1. Americano

Newton Artemis Fido Scamander didn't really know what to expect upon landing on American soil. He tried to keep an open mind; after all his brother had said it was good for a change in atmosphere.

He knew Theseus had the best intentions (so worried he was in the aftermath with- _with everything_ , and him nearly getting expelled from Hogwarts that the exchange scholarship was practically godsent). He owed it to his brother to try to 'fit in'.

He didn't know exactly what that meant except that he was sure he had to keep a low-profile. Though he didn't know that much about American society, he experienced enough in Britain to know that being different equaled to being isolated. In many ways, school was the same no matter the continent.

He expected getting grief about his accent so the most he could do now was just to avoid barging into anyone's space or looking them in the eyes. He didn't like looking people in the eyes, didn't like seeing there what they saw in _him_.

That plan hadn't been going well as just minutes of setting foot in the campus he'd already managed to trip a particularly heavy-set student.

"I'm so sorry. Pardon me," He stammered as he tried to help the student. He was built like a linebacker, with broad shoulders and meaty hands. Newt waited for the inevitable cutting words.

They didn't come as the student just grunted and muttered, "Hey, no problem," before he dashed away, seemingly in a hurry.

Newt stood still for a moment, before berating himself internally. Didn't he always hate to be judged like a book by it's cover? Just because the person had looked similar to his bullies in the past didn't mean that he'd act the same way. Optimism slightly rising, Newt was glad to see that Americans weren't as bad as he thought.

Maybe he could navigate this alien terrain after all.

ooo

No, he was dead wrong.

To say that University was a jungle was an understatement. Apparently, he made it just in time for recruitment week, and he could not have gotten any faster in reaching his dorm room.

The press of bodies, the shouts, and the invasion of his personal space all took a toll on him, and the boy attempting to recruit him to an actual cult was the last straw. Americans were truly, well and beyond bonkers, he thought.

Heaving slightly, he carefully unpacked his belongings as he waited for his room mate. ' _I do hope he is nice…Theseus sometimes, I hate you. Why would go and send me off to live with a veritable stranger, when you know how I get anxious interacting with people?,'_ Newt cotemplated with a deep sigh, _'No point worrying about it now. Might as well suffer only once.'_

A knock on the door interrupted his stream of thoughts and he was suprised to see the student that he'd tripped earlier beyond the door, wearing a university sweatshirt and mustached face, beaming.

Eyes lighting up in recognition the man pointed to him and exclaimed, "Hey you, the guy from earlier right? Nice to meet ya, roomie. The name's Kowalski, but you can call me Jacob."

The friendliness emanating from the man caught him slightly offguard. "Um..It's very nice to meet you as well. My name is Newton Artemis..," He paused to cough lightly instead of continuing, "I mean Newton Scamander, b-but most people just call me Newt." His family, with fondness, while some others, with derision. Newt waited to see which category Mr. Kowalski would fall under.

It seemed it was the former, as the smile remained in place as he said, "That's a cool nickname. I guess you can call me Jake if you want." He entered the dorm, duffel bag in hand and whistled, "Pretty big space here, I mean I dunno about you, but s'bigger than my old place, that's for sure."

He turned a bit and asked Newt, "You English?"

"Um..yes. Accent gave it away?" He fidgeted slightly in his spot.

"Yeah, don't sweat it. We Brooklynites got a bit of a distinctive accent ourselves. Anyone make fun of you about it Scamander, and I can pummel 'em if you want. I got a mean right hook, if I do say so myself," he stated proudly.

Strangely, that statement of violence in his behalf somehow made him feel happy. He'd never had close guy friends in Britain, or any close friends of any gender really. Well, he amended, noone except.. _Leta_.

To banish the sudden sadness that had taken ahold of him, he put his hand out and said with slightly more cheer than what was usual for him, "That won't be necessary Jacob, I can call you Jacob correct, and please do call me Newt. I hope we can become good friends."

"Likewise Newt." Jacob grinned as he shook his hand, amused by the formal gesture.

Newt learned that Jacob really was a linebacker, which confused him at first since he said he played football, but then understood that Jacob had meant rugby. He learned that he was taking up a course in Business because it was his dream to expand his grandmother's coffeeshop-slash-bakery.

"Why didn't you take up Culinary Arts?" Newt asked, geniunely curious.

He scoffed as he replied, "Why would I wanna learn something I already know? Anyway, nothing they could teach me could beat any of my grammy's recipes."

"Well, I'm sure you can do it, make the bakery successful I mean, if all your pastries are as good as the danish you brought."

"You know what? You're the first person to not make fun of my dream. Most people see me, a big guy, assume I'm rough and laugh since sweets don't fit my image. So yeah, thanks for that. How 'bout you? What's your dream?"

Newt explained he was there on an exchange scholarship taking up zoology.

"Like a caretaker at a zoo?"

"No, a zoologist and a zoo caretaker are different. I quite dislike zoos to be honest. Animals shouldn't live in captivity. I would like to observe them in their natural habitat, perhaps heal them if they need it."

"So, something more like a vet?"

"Yes, quite."

From then on, they became steadfast friends. Jacob would invite Newt to watch him play rugby (no, football) sometimes since Newt didn't really play. He was more of a football (no, soccer) player he explained. It was a bit confusing.

Since Jacob joined the football (rugby) team, Newt decided to make an effort in extracurriculars as well. None of the clubs interested him (especially not the cult), so he ventured out of the University Campus till he found an animal shelter a block or two away.

Having decided to volunteer there, Newt then decided he needed a job, since his living expenses sent from England wouldn't be able to cover all of the animal food he wanted to buy.

"Jacob, I need a part-time job. Would you happen to know where I could find one?" Newt asked his room mate one day.

"I have just the thing."


	2. Espresso

He'd notice her occasionally.

Maybe he wouldn't have if not for the fact that she came by like clockwork. It wasn't that she went to Kowalski's (the charming coffee shop where Newt found himself working, and who would have thought it possible, since coffee and people were two things he had never been fond of) every day.

And yet, whenever the bell tinkled at around 4'o clock during some days, without fail, he'd see her edging the door open, multiple heavy books in hand. She'd set them at a table near the window and start studying, coffee mug constantly being refilled by Jacob with the brewed coffee she'd always order.

(He was a bit worried for her health, drinking that sludge all the time, even if it was made by him.)

He had steady hands and so Jacob said he'd probably be a good barista, while his friend handled the baking and the serving, and while normally he was grateful for that arrangement, he felt a twinge of regret that he never got to serve the mystery woman.

' _Which was ridiculous, and peculiar, but mostly ridiculous_ ,' thought Newt as he tried to stamp out the silly thought in his head.

He never understood females. Though perhaps it would be more apt to say that he didn't understand the females of _his_ species. As a result, he considered them an enigma and wasn't particularly curious about them.

He didn't have to remind himself that the exception wasn't here.

And yet, he couldn't help but be curious about this woman who wore loose blouses and corduroys in earthy tones that matched nicely with her dark hair, unlike everyone around her who wore printed t-shirts and hoodies. She was like a spot of garden soil in a city of metal and sharp corners. She made him feel grounded. She reminded him of London. She seemed to blend in the background of a vibrant atmosphere, and as a result, he found her interesting.

Being the scientist that he was, he took to observing her, though not enough to be intrusive nor creepy. It was easy to tell her moods even if she didn't talk to anyone, as Newt had never seen anyone more expressive in their body language.

Whenever her body was closed around her books, and there was a furrow in her brow, Newt would take Jacob aside and advise him to just keep on refilling number four's mug, but avoid striking a conversation since she seemed to be stressed and studying. Usually, she was very open, always thanking Jacob with a smile, fingers curled around her mug, ankles crossed and posture languid.

It was whenever she had a secret smile and a twinkle in her eye as she tapped her pencil to the music and the sunlight hit her just right, that Newt had to mentally restrain himself from going to her table and asking her _'Did something good happen?' 'What made you so jolly today?'_ great was his wish to make another connection just like the one he had forged with Jacob.

Propriety always put him in his place (shyness too).

But when she came one day with her head so downcast that he couldn't even see a glimpse of her eyes, seating nearer to the counter instead of her usual seat by the window, with her shoulders bunched together as if she wanted to shrink within herself, he wanted to set propriety aside and do something for her.

Which was how he found himself trying for the first time to make latte art. He'd added a bit of sugar and cream to her coffee (she didn't need something so bitter right now), and was now trying to draw what he hoped would end up as a platypus with the milk jug (steady hands, don't fail him).

It was a minute later that he panicked, _'Oh no. What if she doesn't like it? I shouldn't have done something so unnecessary.'_ He wanted to ask Jacob to come back so that he could redo the order, but he was already at her table. Biting his lip slightly, he waited and listened slightly behind the pantry door.

"This isn't my usual order?" Her voice was clear and steady, even as it was inquiring.

"Er, it's on the house darling," Good chap that Jacob, "Thought you could use a little pick-me up."

A beat later, that Newt thought stretch out entirely too long, and she said "Thank you" with such sincerity that he could feel even from where he was. He chanced a peek, and saw her smiling softly, back a little straighter as she sipped her coffee, and he felt amazing.

It became a sort of tradition between them. She'd always order brewed coffee, and he'd always add a little something extra. Even as he'd gotten good enough to make latte art for all of their customers, it was always flowers or those little leaf-thingies that were Instagram-worthy, but he'd always draw inspiration from his family's wildlife preserve whenever he drew something for her. The lion made her feel energized. The rhinoceros made her laugh. The sloth made her coo. It was more personal.

It was fitting, thought Newt. She _had_ been the first.

Yet even as Jacob ribbed and teased, he still couldn't get the courage to make conversation with her. Of course it wasn't a crush, he'd protest, even as he'd blush, it was only one old soul calling out to another, him in his sweater vests and her in her corduroys.

And that was that.

Or it was supposed to be.


	3. Caffe au Lait

It goes like this – Newt for the love of him cannot abandon any creature in need.

Jacob knows that, and he likes that about him. It's the reason why they're such good pals. But there has to be a line, he stubbornly thinks, he will not yield, he will not be persuaded-

"Please Jacob? He was all alone and injured, and I couldn't just leave him out in the pouring rain." Newt is pleading, holding the black scruffy cat with the broken leg in his hands as if he could convince Jacob purely through its cuteness.

Yeah. No way. The cat is fugly, one eye scratched out, fur matted and wet, he's not sorry to think that though he won't say it out load.

"Newt, man, you know Graves is a stickler for rules. We'll be hauling our asses outta here if he finds that..thing." Jacob tries a valiant attempt at rationality, though he knows it's a lost cause. He knows Newt has enough common sense (sometimes), but he also knows that he has a lot of heart.

It's in the way he softly cradles the cat, prodding delicately to find out the exact cause of the hurt, "I'll bring it to the shelter during the weekend, after feeding it and taking care of its leg," he looks up beseechingly up at him and Jacob is already agreeing before he says anything else, since he doesn't sell out friends, no way josé, and Newt knows that, darn him.

"Fine, fine. But you're pulling double-shift at the shop, yeah?" He grumbles, but pats the little critter anyway.

Newt just smiles.

ooo

It goes like this – Tina's a bit of a busybody.

Her sister, with her soft words, will tell her she just loves to help people. She's a defender of justice at her core. Tina likes that, defender of justice, it makes otherwise plain and boring her sound interesting. But Tina's not one for flattery, self-directed or otherwise, and she is aware enough to know how she might be perceived.

Just like now.

She didn't need to be as good at reading people as her psychology major sister to tell that Abernathy's raised eyebrows clearly spell out, "Oh no, here she comes again, why me?" quite eloquently, as she approaches the receptionist's desk at the boy's dorm.

"Miss Goldstein," he begins sufferingly, "The Head R.A. still isn't here. Do you want to just leave a message?" Abernathy's tired of sounding like a broken record, repeating the same thing for the past few days.

"No, thank you," Tina replies politely. She has to talk to Graves personally about one of his dormers, and since it's a sensitive topic, she can't just pass a message.

"Actually, I'm not here for Graves. I was hoping to talk to..." Maybe if she can't meet Graves, she can at least talk to Credence. She was just about to request Abernathy to call him up, before a student in a rather conspicuous coat on his way out caught both her and Abernathy's attention.

(What else would one call such an eye-catching shade of peacock-blue?)

He was trying to exit the dorm discreetly, and doing such a terrible job at it that he was doing the opposite. He had ruddy brown hair and a smattering of freckles, which was the only thing that she could make out of his face since he was trying so hard not to meet their eyes, and though he was quite tall, he slouched slightly, angling his body left to obviously shield his coat pocket.

"Hey you!" Abernathy called out to his back, "What do you have in your pocket?" He asks, suspicious.

"N-nothing i-important," replies the dormer. Tina detects an accent and can deduce that he's likely English. Another thing that she can deduce, he is an awful liar.

"Right," Abernathy replies, not convinced at all as he lifts up the phone from its cradle to call one of the other R.A.s no doubt. Or he would've, if he hadn't been interrupted by Tina's shrill voice, shouting nearly directly in his ear, "Him!"

"What?" He asks her, confused. He wonders if he can still hear properly in his left.

In reply, Tina just loops her arm around the English boy's own, and addresses him, "Hey you!"

He looks utterly confused, and Tina decided that she's in no place to be criticizing another person's lying skills as she internally cringes at her unconvincing tone. Thinking fast, she spies his I.D., and reads a last name.

She turns to Abernathy and explains, "I was hoping to talk to Scamander here, but looks like he saved you the trouble of having to call him up." She plasters on a smile, hoping it looks casual enough.

"Yeah, ok whatever. He still needs to show me what's in his pocket though."

"Oh _that_? They're for me. I asked him to buy them as a personal favor," she whispers, voice low, "Lady's things, you know? Wanna take a look?" She offers innocently, half-turning, with the English boy (Scamander, her mind supplies) in tow.

She notices he's blushing and she curses him in her mind. She'll end up blushing too! (She notices distantly how prominent his freckles stand out then, but it's an out of place thought which she banishes.)

Abernathy looks a bit green, as he mutters nevermind and shooes them away. Ah men, so weak towards anything related to the inner workings of females. Thank God for Queenie.

Hurriedly, the two escape, her still clutching at his arm in a parody of a gentleman's escort.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you so much for the kind reviews. I love them all. I'd like to recommend listening to _"Coffee Shop"_ by Bryan Lazar which is probably the theme song of this fic, to get all of the Newtina feels. (I just love these two cinnamon rolls, especially together).**


	4. Cafe Latte

' _Well,'_ Newt thinks dumbly, heart still racing from his brief brush with danger, _'That was rather close.'_ He feels like an animal narrowly escaping the proverbial bear trap.

He still has to gather his wits as he's not entirely sure what just transpired. All he knows is that his mystery woman (a bit pathetic really that after all this time, he still didn't know her name) had just in all probability saved him, and that they were now behind the dorm building, hidden completely by the brick wall.

To say he was shocked to see her someplace outside the coffee shop was an understatement. He was even more surprised when she suddenly grasped his arm, though not unpleasantly so.

"Sorry about that," she says, now withdrawing aforementioned arm (Newt tries to quash his slight disappointment).

"No need to apologize. I mean it should be me apologizing to you, and not the other way around, for the trouble, I mean," he stammers awkwardly, as he realizes that this is their first conversation ever, notwithstanding coffee and milk.

"Right, well then," she says, tone quite formal now as she draws herself to her full height, which is not much at all Newt notices. He also notices the smidgen of mustard at the corner of her mouth. He strangely find it (her) adorable.

"Um, you have a bit of something here," He reaches out to wipe it away with his thumb even as his mind is blaring alarms at him, what on earth was he doing, he didn't initiate contact.

His savior swats his hand lightly as she removes it herself and continues, "Mr. Scamander, please do remove that cat from your coat," Newt's eyebrows raise at that, wondering how she knew.

She answers his silent question. "No point in denying it. Abernathy couldn't see it clearly from where he was, but I saw your pocket move a little. It's too small to be a dog, even a puppy, so..." She lets her sentence trail off as she waits to be proven correct.

Newt knew he couldn't hide Mauler now. Slowly, he removed the stray from his pocket, careful not to jostle his bad leg.

"Mercy Lewis," she mutters under her breath. "Mr. Scamander, you do know keeping pets is a violation of dorm rules? Section 3A." She's massaging her head slightly as if trying to prevent an oncoming headache. Her brow is furrowed and he finds himself repentant at that.

"Yes, I am aware. I did read the rule book."

She blows a wayward strand from her brown no-nonsense bob-cut away. "At least there's one of you."

Newt doesn't entirely comprehend her reply as he realizes that this is the first time he's looked her in the eyes. They're a common color, the same as that of her hair, but rendered mesmerizing by her straightforward gaze.

He has to look away a bit to explain, occasionally darting glances at her, "Mauler's not my pet, no, not really." He's having a bit of difficulty not dropping him with the way the cat keeps scratching at his hands.

"You named it!?" she whispers-shouts at him. Tina's finding it hard to stay calm. But she can't really be angry either at this strange English boy with the too tall frame clad in a sweater vest. He pulls off the wounded puppy gambit exceptionally well, but Tina WILL. NOT. FALL. FOR. IT.

She has enough experience under her belt what with dealing with wayward freshmen as part of the disciplinary committee. She thinks it unfair; she should practically be immune by now.

She must be fair, she promises it to herself. She will not be endeared by his shy glances, by his freckles, by his accent, by his _ridiculous_ necktie, because what kind of uni student even wore a necktie in this day and age?

She is plain Tina. She is serious Tina. She is boring Tina. All of these she accepts, but she will not be accused of being unjust, and so she gives him a chance to explain with a slight gesture of her hand, motioning him to continue.

He resumes, looking quite chastened, "I didn't mean to keep it. I planned to give it up to the animal shelter on Friday, and was just taking care of it in the mean time since it was injured. I do sincerely apologize for the trouble."

He really feels sorry for inconveniencing her. And extremely grateful too, since she'd saved him from getting caught, even at her own expense. Very few people would do the same as her, and he admires her all the more for it. "I'd also like to express my deepest thanks if you'd accept it Miss…," he asks shyly.

"Oh." Tina can't help but blush slightly at the thanks. She'd expected to be called out for interfering, and it was a nice surprise to be appreciated for once. But still, "No need to butter me up Mr. Scamander, I won't turn you in," she couldn't help but tease.

"N-not at all! I really do mean it. And if it'll cause more trouble for you, please feel free to report me to the Head R.A. I wouldn't want you to get a bad mark on my account." Should it come that, Newt hoped Jacob would still let him work full-time in the coffee shop if he'd have to make rent elsewhere.

How sweet, Tina couldn't help but think. Student Council President Picquery would probably accuse her of having a soft heart, but he believed him. "I was joking Mr. Scamander. I'm a dormer too, so I know that like me, you don't really have a lot of money to spare. As long as you promise me that you'll get Mauler to the shelter on Friday, then neither of us will get into trouble."

"I promise," he swears solemnly, even holding up the hand not carrying the cat, still trying to claw off his skin.

 _Queenie help_. Tina wonders if sister telepathy works, or if it only worked for twins. She is completely out of her depth. She is completely charmed. "If there's nothing else, I'll be going now. It was nice meeting you Mr. Scamander." No, she is not making a hasty escape. It's a tactical retreat, she justifies as she turns to go.

Accented English stops her in her tracks, "Newt," he says looking her in the eyes, though she sees in his that he's a bit scared, though of what she wonders (it can't possibly be her, can it?), but his voice is strong as he addresses her, "Please do call me Newt."

"It's nice to meet you Newt." There must be a story there, she thinks, but maybe another time, though it's unlikely that they'll ever see each other again (Ilvermorny is huge after all.). She faces him fully and meets his gaze, "I'm Tina Goldstein, and you can call me Tina if you'd like," she smiles, teeth showing, and Newt thinks it's like sunlight, warm and nurturing, allowing things to grow.

"Yes, I'd like that very much."


	5. Cappuccino

It is a week later that he sees her again, within the familiar confines of the coffee shop.

Mauler is well taken care of at the shelter and he visits from time to time. He isn't ashamed to admit he misses the li'l beastie as Jacob likes to call him, despite the brief time they had together, the chewed-up socks and scratches. He once told his pet stick insect that it had attachment issues, but maybe it was just him projecting.

Which is why he worries as he continues surreptitiously stealing glances at Tina, completely absorbed in her textbook, even as he works on drawing a cat on the coffee foam.

Remember Leta, always remember, as if he could possibly forget. But this is Ilvermorny, not Hogwarts. And she is Tina, not Leta.

Though the fact that he is comparing them at all threatens to paint his face scarlet. He doesn't feel for Tina, what he felt for Leta, _he doesn't_ , though who he's trying to convince is anyone's guess. Maybe Jacob.

"Your gal's here again Newt," he remarks amused, as he slings a tablecloth over one shoulder.

"She is not my 'gal'," Newt mutters embarrassed. But perhaps, perhaps they could be friends.

"Oh yeah? What kind of starving student buys the most expensive slice of pie for a gal, if she ain't his gal?" Jacob inclines his head at the new addition to Tina's order, already on his tray, along with the usual coffee.

Newt sniffs, a bit affronted. "A gentleman," he answers an unimpressed Jacob, "I'd like to consider myself properly raised as one."

"Tina offered me a bit of assistance last week, and this is just a token of gratitude," He adds in a somewhat snappish tone. It's not like him to be grouchy as Jacob sends him a concerned glance. "Sorry," he atones, grouchiness lessening, "I hadn't slept properly." Jacob nods, understanding. There had been a racket at some ungodly hour in the morning, which had interrupted their slumber.

"But at least you finally got her name," he declares cheekily. Trust Jacob to latch onto the most damning part of that sentence. "Anyhows that excuse only works if she actually knew who this was..." But Jacob doesn't continue, and as Newt follows his line of sight, he finds out why.

A girl wearing a pastel pink dress has just entered Kowalski's. Her soft blonde hair feathers the white shawl she wears along with it, as her bright eyes scan the interior.

Newt doesn't understand his friend's speechlessness, nor the fact that the coffee shop has quieted a little as all of his male contemporaries within the vicinity of the girl gape and stare.

Newt supposes the newcomer has a lovely face, heart-shaped and open, but it is her features that have him puzzling and wrestling with slight familiarity.

Jacob has finally overcome his muteness to utter, "Hey Newt, I think the heavens just opened up and a choir of angels just started singing."

Newt merely nods in response at the silly sentiment. He could tell you all about the mating habits of more than a hundred species, but the subject homo sapiens will forever elude him, in this matter.

The girl's eyes light up in recognition as she finds her acquaintance, and Newt has his curiosity put to rest as she approaches Tina's table in a flurry, even as Jacob is surprised.

"Your gal's friends with that blonde bombshell?"

"Sisters, I should think," he replies contemplative.

Jacob faces him resolutely, and Newt starts to feel growing dread, anxiety hitting him in full force.

"No Jacob."

"Newt c'mon, you know Tina already. And it'll work out for the both of us. You get an excuse to talk to Tina, I get to be introduced to that wonderful lady, everybody wins! Plus, you owe me for Mauler."

He can't argue against that, he knows, but it still doesn't stop him from sweating buckets as Jacob places the serving tray in his hands, and pushes him out the pantry. It's not that he doesn't want to talk to Tina. On the contrary, he wants to ask her a lot of things, like what her favorite color was, how about her favorite animal, and oh did she like tea? (He thinks it's not normal, wanting to know everything about someone you'd had a grand total of one conversation with, but then he's never been normal).

Newt tries to dig his heels in. but Jacob is strong and in no time at all, they're at the table of the Goldstein sisters.

He prays he won't mess this up.

ooo

Queenie likes spending time with her sister whenever she can. She doesn't understand the catty relationship between other sisters she personally knows, since her bond with Teenie was always comforting. But then, most sisters didn't end up as orphans at a young age, with only each other to rely on for most of their childhood life.

She cooks homemade food for her older sister when she was stressed and sometimes plays matchmaker, though most of the time Teenie doesn't appreciate it. Teenie reigns in her flights of fancy, and protects her from all threats, whether they be touchy hands or scathing words. That's how it's always been.

They look out for each other.

And though she can't tussle as well as her tougher sis, she can protect her from whatever hurts her kind heart.

"Hey, Teenie, anything bothering you?" Queenie asks her softly, as she grasps her hand in her own.

She's interrupted from answering, Tina no doubt about to reassure her younger sister that _no of course not, you don't need to worry about me_ , by a squeaky voice from somewhere above them.

"G-good afternoon. Here is your order misses, miss, I mean madams." The student with the floppy brown hair, and who Queenie assumes must be their server, looks like he wishes the ground would swallow him right at this moment.

Tina's eyes lights in recognition, and Queenie wonders how she came to make the acquaintance of the English exchange student. "Newt! I didn't know you worked here," she exclaims pleasantly surprised.

"Ah yes," He nervously ruffles his already messy hair, eyes darting every which way except her sister's. Interesting. "I hadn't a chance to mention it to you during our conversation last week." Queenie glances swiftly under the table and notes that though Mr. Newt avoids looking at her sister's eyes, his feet are firmly pointed towards her like a lodestar. Very, very interesting.

"I wish I'd noticed you earlier. Maybe we could've talked," her sister says in earnest, "And thank you for the coffee, but we didn't order this pie." Teenie brings her mug up to her lips with one hand, while pointing to the slice with the other. She smacks her lips and seems content with the brew.

"It's actually a gift. On me. I hope you'll accept."

Queenie watches as a lightbulb metaphorically pings in her sister's head, and though she's smiling at her, it is somewhat resigned. Queenie wants to shake her normally sensible sibling out of the _wrong_ conclusion, but then they are in polite company. Therein lies the crux of the problem, really. Where Teenie is knowledgeable, Queenie is naïve and where she is aware, Teenie is absolutely clueless.

"Go on, Queenie. Do remember to thank Mr. Scamander."

"You're mistaken," Mr. Scamander, Newt, hesitates and glances at her as if afraid to offend her, but she just urges him on with her eyes. If he wasn't brave enough, then he certainly doesn't deserve Teenie.

She's glad to be proven wrong, as he first clears his throat, as if to ready himself, and clarifies, "It's actually for you Tina. I thought you'd like it," he tugs slightly on his tie as he pinks adorably. "It's the least I could do to thank you after what you did for me."

Well, it would've been better without the last statement, but Teenie blushes all the same. It's sweet how their faces now match.

Newt coughs into his hand nervously, as he averts his gaze to the table. He thinks he maintained eye contact with Tina long enough. He feels like a contradiction every time he looks at her. Scared and brave, restless and comforted all at the same time.

"The reason I'm here, so sorry to interrupt your tea-time, is I'd hope to introduce my friend…," He's still fidgeting, but his voice has genuine fondness as he presents the man standing slightly behind him, "Jacob Kowalski. Tina, Jacob, Jacob, Tina."

Queenie hadn't noticed him, focused as she was on her sister and her..friend. But she quite likes what she sees, his warm eyes, his laugh lines, even his bristly mustache. He stands quite a bit away and only approaches her after Teenie finishes introducing them, "I know Jacob already. This is my sister, Queenie. Queenie, my friends, Newt and Jacob. You can blame Jacob here for enabling my coffee addiction." Tina inclines her head at him with a roll of her eyes.

Jacob laughs good-naturedly, and Queenie imagines that one would enjoy sweet dreams at the sound, "Naw. The honor goes to my boy, Newt for that," he reveals wickedly, winking at the now scarlet boy.

"Oh." Teenie's says softly, surprised, as she curls a lock of her hair behind her ear. Newt tracks the movement with his eyes, hidden beneath his fringe. "I suppose I have you to thank as well for the illustrations?" Newt nods stiffly, not trusting himself to speak.

"Thank you, really. They cheered me up." Both Teenie and Newt can't seem to look at each other now.

Jacob and Queenie share a glance knowingly. Jacob puts his hand out for Queenie to shake, which she takes delicately into her own.

"I'm glad to meet you Queenie."

"Me too, Honey. Me too."

ooo

They sit together, the four of them crowded at a small café table. When Newt points out to Jacob that they're still working (though he sounds reluctant to leave), Jacob hollers at his grandmother for a 15 minute break, which the kindly owner of the coffee shop readily accepts. Teenie shares a bit of her pie with Queenie, and she thinks it divine. Knowing that Jacob made it himself, and that he prefers strudel to pie makes her heart flutter.

"I could bake you a strudel, honey, if you'd like?" she offers.

"I'm sure I'll love it." He grins at her, and Queenie thinks she could fall in love.

Meanwhile, Teenie and Newt are talking about their respective courses. And rare is it that Queenie finds Teenie so passionate about what she wants to do in the future with someone else other than her. Rarer is it to find a guy not intimidated by her sister majoring in Criminology.

Newt is a great listener. He takes in every word her sister is saying like water, storing them as if they were precious treasures.

"Sorry," Tina tries to control herself, "I'm rambling."

"No, no," Why did she stop? Newt wants to listen to more, "I find it very interesting, and you, admirable for deciding to pursue a career in law enforcement." His eyes are honest, no trace of judgment in them.

' _Sheesh, Mr. Scamander, do give a girl a chance,'_ Tina thought she'd be in trouble real soon. Avoiding her sister's sly glance, she continued her conversation with her friend, "Here I am chattering away. I'd like to know more about you too if you don't mind, aside from your love of animals. Why'd you decide to want to become a zoologist? Where else do you want to go in the future?"

"We've never been outside America," she admitted, "So I am curious to know about your travels."

Newt had to take a moment to think about his reply. Apart from Leta, he'd never had anyone before who was curious about his motivations, anyone who wanted to pick at his brain and get to know him as a person apart from being Theseus Scamander's younger brother. He then met Jacob, and now he had Tina and perhaps, Queenie. Friends, to call his own and to keep. It was too good to be true.

And indeed it was, as a ringtone broke the blanket of contentment surrounding the quartet. Tina fished her phone from her jacket pocket and a cloud passed her face, making it known to everyone at the table that something was wrong.

"Queenie, I've got to go." She started putting away her things, "There's no need to stand up; your break isn't over yet," she said, addressing Newt who was halfway out his seat.

"Newt, Jacob, it was a lovely afternoon spent. Could I ask a favor, if possible? Could you please walk Queenie home to the dorm? It's getting a bit dark." Queenie worried at the troubled face Teenie was sporting.

"It's no burden at all Tina. Don't worry about us. I hope your business isn't too dire," Newt, ever the gentleman tried to assure her, though Queenie noticed he looked really worried as well.

"Yeah, we'll walk her home." Jacob agreed.

Sufficiently reassured of her sister's safety, Teenie exited the café after hugging her briefly. Newt's eyes trailed after her, before being brought back to attention by the jostling in his pants pocket.

After handling his phone, and scanning the message, he looked at Queenie, apologetic.

Waiving off his silent apology, she tells him that it's ok and that he should tend to his unexpected situation. He thanks her and entrusts Jacob with her safety, only after which he hurries out, much the same way as Teenie.

Queenie can't help but be worried, but Jacob is a comforting presence by her side.

"They'll be alright." His voice is strong and sure.

Queenie wants to believe him.


	6. Hammerhead

_Mr. Scamander (Room No. 626),_

 _You are hereby requested and required to make a personal appearance at the Common Room, Dorm Room 101 to provide testimony in regards to an event which we were made aware that you had personal knowledge of. Be present by 1800H._

 _P. Graves  
Head Resident Assistant  
Wampus Dormitory_

 _..._

Upon seeing the message on his phone, Newt had set a brisk pace, walking back to the dorm. Truly, he had wanted to walk Queenie back, along with Jacob – he never did like to break promises once he made them – however, the fact that the meeting time indicated in the e-mail was a mere five minutes away forced him to take a rain check.

He felt wary about the circumstances. A sudden summons without any mention or hint as to why? Ordinarily he would've felt more cautious, defenses already set up. However, he couldn't spare any more thought to himself or his situation when all he kept worrying about was –

-Tina, who was the first person he saw as he turned the doorknob and swung the door inside. Her eyes betrayed her surprise, even as she stood straight and tall, asking him a silent question he wished he could answer. She was near a dark looking boy sporting a bowl cut, and his arm in a cast. He recognized him as the freshman who tried to recruit him to a cult during his first day.

Gaze sweeping around the small circular room, Newt saw that Abernathy was also in attendance, looking smug standing at the flank of a man who was sitting down, and whom Newt assumed to be Graves. He'd never met the senior personally, though he often saw him making his rounds.

His black hair was severely held back away from his face, not a single strand out of place. He looked sharp and professional in his pressed button-down polo, looking almost nothing like a student. His eyes as he looked at Newt, behind his clasped hands, were steely.

It was eyes like his that made Newt wanted to avoid people's gazes. In them he saw judgment, condemning him for something that was already final, regardless of the things Newt could and could not help. He felt as if he could understand what prey felt cornered by a predator under the scrutiny of the Head RA.

He felt Tina shift imperceptibly; moving closer, and her presence somehow helped him find his voice.

He cleared his throat and tried to look Graves in the eyes (don't cower; they can sense fear) and asked in as strong a tone as he could muster, "M-may I ask why I was requested to come here?"

His question seemed to pop the bubble of tension surrounding the space, as Graves leaned back and began to explain. "Mr. Scamander, at 0300H today, Mr. Barebone here," he gestured to the freshman in front him, who refuses to look up from the floor, "tripped down the stairs on his way to his room."

Newt thought it unfortunate, and wondered if there was something he could do for the boy. Perhaps that was the reason he had been called. However his training was specialized in treating injured animals, though he knew the basics of first aid. He still felt that there was someone more qualified they could have called, or they should have just let Mr. Barebone go to the infirmary.

Hoping Graves would clarify, he listened without interrupting.

"He tripped over something. Something alive. Though he couldn't see it clearly because of the dark, he thinks it might have been a cat," Newt hears Tina's soft gasp behind him, "since he recounts it scratching, and even biting him before he fell." Newt has a foreboding feeling.

"Credence, could you please show them the marks." Graves directs his request to the boy – Credence – with a nod of his head.

Credence bites his lip, and Newt can see his clenched hands are trembling slightly. Newt remembers the boy to have been slightly shorter than him, but sitting as he is now, he seems smaller than anything else. Tina softly brings her hand to the boy's shoulders and though the tremble is there, he is no longer biting his lip hard enough that Newt was afraid it would have bled. He reminds him Newt of a wounded animal, bleeding and dying, and Newt hates the feeling of helplessness, unable to do anything to keep it alive.

Tina is doing her best to calm them both. It works, her silence and touch, freely given, soothing two skittling creatures.

"Go on, Credence. There's nothing to worry about," urges Graves. With much prompting, he slowly tugs down, and aside the collar of his black turtleneck to reveal scratch marks and a purpling bruise, before hurriedly covering his neck again.

Grave looks satisfied as he looks again to a bewildered Newt, and states authoritatively, "We have a witness here with us who saw you sneak a cat out Mr. Scamander," Graves acknowledges Abernathy who is nodding vigorously, as if excited to be a witness, "so there's no point in lying or making excuses. It's in your best interest to admit the truth now. Did you sneak an animal here, knowingly violating the dorm rules?"

"Yes, however-"

"We have rules for a reason Mr. Scamander. They're meant to protect us."

"Yes, I know, but what I'm trying to say-"

Graves is relentless, "Even if you make an excuse of not meaning for anyone to get hurt, someone _did_ get hurt. And badly. Broken arm as a result of the fall. Your whimsy caused _this_." He points angrily to their injured junior, who looks as if he wants to escape this place.

 _No. No. No. Not this again,_ Newt thinks desperately. A different school. A different _continent_ , and yet it's still the same? The de ja vu makes him ill.

He's transported back to Hogwarts, standing in the Headmaster's Office, feeling as if his clothes, and even his own skin, were too big for him. Harsh words, blaming questions, which he had to suffer alone, because Leta wasn't there, where had Leta been?

Eventually he just…shut down. And would have been expelled if not for Theseus and the Scamander name.

Now, his brother isn't here and his name cannot protect him. He has to fight for himself. His body is turned sideways, awkwardly bent towards her. It is to Graves he must explain, but it is to Tina that he wants to defend himself. Seeing her conflicted face, eyes wavering between him and Credence, he steels himself, because at least, at least he does not want her to think he betrayed her trust.

"I brought it here yes, and only because it would have died otherwise. I swear I brought it to the shelter on Friday, which was over four days ago."

"So you claim Credence is lying?"

"I make no such claim, nor am I accusing him of lying, however," Newt glances at the shadow boy, briefly unsure. "As a zoology student, animals lie in my realm of study. I can differentiate animal bite marks. I can assure you that whatever did that wasn't a cat."

Graves' expression becomes stormy, however it is the fact that Credence looks alarmed that catches Newt's attention.

If nothing, Graves is great at duels with words, and he parries back smoothly, "Be that as it may, you could still be lying to save your skin. It's the words of two witnesses against yours Mr. Scamander."

Newt visibly deflates and asks, defeated, "And what corresponding penalty am I to be dealt with?" He hopes at least that Tina believes him. Glancing at her through his fringe, and he can see that she no longer looks troubled. Instead she is pensive, as if deep in thought, and Newt wonders why. Before he can ask her though, he is interrupted.

"A first violation usually results in a warning, and in some cases the paying of a fine," states Graves, answering his question. "However, considering the grave consequences as a result of your actions, there is no choice but to evict you from this dormitory."

' _I'm sorry Theseus_ ', he thinks, feeling the noose tightening around him. Looks like he'll have to ask Jacob for that full-time job after all. At least there was no threat of expulsion. Though his reputation will once again be maligned, he thinks this better than what happened before.

"Wait!"

Tina's voice rings clear and true, slicing through the rope.

ooo

All eyes swivel to her, even Credence'.

"What is it Miss Goldstein?" Graves sounds impatient, as if he wants the whole thing to be over and done with.

Tina takes a while to reply, carefully considering her words. She is not looking at him; instead it is to Credence, who has still refused to speak, that her attention is devoted to.

The human language is something that Newt is far from mastering. People's propensity for words and the subtleties they connote to it have him confused. People do not always mean what they say, Newt knows, or they may mean something entirely different from what comes out of their mouth. Instead of wasting time decoding layers of euphemisms and contradictions, he felt it was more worthwhile to spend it mastering the language of animals.

Newt may misread social cues, but he is more attuned than most to the language of movement. It was the only way for him to understand those who did not have the luxury of words. However, there were also times when even humans did not have the same luxury.

Newt observes the communication between the girl beside him and the young boy in front of him. It is the first time that Credence has met anyone's eyes in the room, but the moment is short-lived as he goes back to staring at his shoes.

It seems to have been enough for Tina though, as from her face Newt thinks that she's come to a decision. She closes her eyes briefly, as if to gather strength from within herself, and though she looks determined once she open her eyes, Newt doesn't like that she also looks a bit resigned.

"Percy," Tina catches herself and begins again, "Graves. Newt is telling the truth." There is no trace of doubt in her voice, and despite the precarious situation, it makes him feel calm.

"You can't just expect me to take your word-"

" _Yes, I do_. I request that you let me vouch for him." Tina still remains polite, but her voice is as steely as Graves' glare. "I think Credence may be…mistaken." Her voice has softened at this part, and even Newt can tell that she means something else, but doesn't know what.

Graves narrows his eyes at her, fully glaring now, "Tina," and Newt can tell there is familiarity there, a relationship of which he knows nothing about, "You can't let your personal emotions get the best of you. Don't you want to become a policewoman in the future? You won't be anyone worthwhile if you let familiarity cloud your judgment."

Newt can tell that Tina is angry by the way she clenches her jaw, unnoticeable to anyone else. But it seems like Tina respects this man, so she stands her ground and doesn't quarrel. Instead she addresses Abernathy, "Didn't you see me with him at the dorm entrance last Friday?"

"Yeah I did. I knew it was suspicious, I mean how did the two of you know each other any-"

"Did you see him carrying a cat?"

"No. But I figure it was in his pocket right?"

"So you didn't actually see this person," she points harshly at Newt, who is momentarily startled, "with the said cat?"

"N-no. I mean you said it was lady's things, so I didn't check." Abernathy looks a bit cowed at Tina's relentless questioning, but decides to move on the offense, "She was probably in on it too! You're not dumb enough to have fallen for his ' _oh, goodness, it's nothing_ ' act." He imitates Newt's accent and butchers it horrendously. Newt would've been insulted if he wasn't three-fourths on the way to a full-blown anxiety attack.

What was Tina doing? She'd fall down with him too. "She had nothing to do with it!" He exclaims, voice loud and echoing in the closed room.

"Yes, perhaps Tina was just misled. They had an arrangement and this transferee took advantage of that and even managed to give himself an alibi, making use of her cloak of authority."

Newt does not recognize the person Graves paints, if it's supposed to be him, a dark alter-ego, a master manipulator. It is laughable in its absurdity, practically a caricature (How could he manipulate people when he couldn't even talk to them without stammering?).

Newt doesn't understand fully this spider-silk he's thrown them when he'd been meticulous in putting the blame on him, but he does understand a little because he knows that wolves are pack animals and an alpha has to look out for his own. If an outsider like him gets ripped to shreds, so be it. He'd happily fling himself off, if it means Tina gets to climb that lifeline.

It dawns on him, suddenly, in a burst of startling clarity. It is not spider-silk, but a spider-web. Somehow Graves knows that Newt will confess, lie, say whatever he needs to claim the blame for his own. Newt understands how, but he cannot understand why. He has no time to puzzle it out.

Again he's taking the blame to save someone else, but Newt knows it's not the same. Because caring Tina, kind Tina, is blameless, completely blameless, and it is all _his_ fault that they're in this mess. He's ready to say it, the words at the tip of his lips, _'Yes that's right, I took advantage of her honest nature-'_

But someone beats him to it.

"No that's not right. I wasn't taken advantage of. It was my decision to let him go, because he said he'd bring the cat to the animal shelter on Friday, and _I believe him_." Newt gapes at her. (He does not deserve the strength of her convictions.)

"You do realize that was a dereliction of duty?" Tina nods, standing as steady as a tree. "And you realize the implications of your statement? Of course you do; you're our most capable asset." Graves stands from his seat and paces before coming to stand in front of Tina.

"Since you strongly believe in Mr. Scamander's _innocence_ , he cannot be penalized because of the proof we currently have and because your vouching for him complicates things. It means he cannot be held guilty beyond reasonable doubt." Newt is already protesting, but Tina's tiny hand grips his wrist tightly.

"But someone has to be held responsible," Graves says, unconcerned with the brief interruption, "Mrs. Barebone has already demanded an inquiry regarding her son's injury. That will still be the official story, even if Mr. Scamander is now off the hook. However, will you take his place? Do you accept responsibility for being negligent in your duties?"

 _No, no, no,_ Newt wants to shout, but his words have escaped him.

But strong Tina, brave Tina, whose hand still grips his, grounding him, steadying him (even if it should be the other way around), still holds dominion over her words. Her voice rings clear and true as she says, "Yes."

In a surprising show of emotion, the Barebone boy whips his head to look at her. His face looks stricken, and Newt wonders ( _why_ ) if he feels as pained as him.

Newt prefers animals to people, because they are honest. People lie. All the time. Even as Newt feels that he is not completely human himself, he still has in him the worst of human traits. He lies.

He lied to protect a girl once, in a different time, a different place.

But Tina did not lie, to protect him.

She just didn't tell the complete truth.


	7. Babycinno

"What an interesting man you are Mr. Scamander, to have earned the loyalty of such a fine woman."

It wasn't said in a mocking tone, just a curious one; all the same Newt takes a step back to retreat from Graves' looming presence.

Tina had already left, rushing after Credence who stormed out of the room as soon as everything was over, but not before giving him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. He dared hope that she didn't hate him.

"W-what'll happen to Tina?"

"President Picquery will be the one to decide," answers Graves. He turns, hands in his pockets and about to climb the stairs, as if to dismiss him.

"Why was Credence at our floor?" Despite the turmoil of emotions broiling within him, he couldn't help but be confused at so many details in the boy's story. Why was he out of his room at three in the morning? And though Newt wasn't completely certain, it was likely that the noise he heard this morning was from the fall. The freshmen and sophomores were at the lower floors, while the juniors and seniors were allotted rooms in the upper half. What had he been doing so far away?

Graves pauses, and peers down at him from the steps, considering. "It seems there's more to you than meets the eye," he murmurs instead of answering.

He continues upwards, leaving Newt alone with his thoughts.

ooo

 _Dear Miss Goldstein,_

 _A thousand apologies are not enough._

 _Are you truly well? Are you doing alright? I've made a mess of things but-_

 _If there's anything, anything at all that I do to help, please don't hesitate to ask._

 _Sincerely yours,  
Newt_

…

 _Dear Mr. Scamander,_

 _Yes, I'm fine. Please don't worry._

 _I'm sorry that you got involved, and that I can't explain everything fully. They're not my secrets to share._

 _However, considering all the circumstances, I thought that this was the best source of action. I'm not under Graves' direct authority so he can't do anything to me with a snap of his fingers, unlike what he could do to you. There'll have to be a hearing with President Picquery at least._

 _Maybe I'm just delaying the inevitable, but I won't go down fighting. As for helping-_

 _Just keep on making your heavenly brews. I'm gonna need it to survive finals._

 _Best regards,  
Tina_

 _P.S. Do keep your nose clean. Even if you have as many lives as Mauler, it won't be enough dealing with Graves. Wouldn't want anything happening to my coffee buddy now._

ooo

Although he was still felt unsettled, some semblance of normalcy settled over their lives. Two days later they carried on as they always did, although Tina had mentioned that she might not be able to come to the Kowalski's that often.

Jacob was _despondent_.

"What'll we do without our best customer?" He pouted.

Tina decided to make it up to him be tutoring him in Calculus. Newt, still on his shift, observed them from behind the counter where he was polishing off mugs and glasses.

"So, let's say a bakery can produce 200 loaves to sell, and the total daily cost of producing x loaves a day is given by this," Tina points to an equation in her notes, which Newt assumes to be an extremely difficult one judging from his friend's expression, "How many loaves of bread should be baked in a given day to maximize profit and minimize cost?" Tina looks at Jacob expectantly.

"Kowalski's can sell more than 200 loaves. Heck, I can bake more than 200 on my own. We'll just sell 'em all. Maximized profit. No cost." Seeing Tina's unamused expression, he backtracks, "I kid darling. I really appreciate what you're doin' for me. You're a better teacher than Mr. Bingley. I just don't get how derivatives are supposed to help me. Way I see it, you just gotta have business savvy."

"You can apply it when you're about to make your business plan to apply for a loan," she points out sensibly.

To this, Jacob just groans. "I hate dealing with banks."

Outwardly, she didn't appear affected, and yet despite Tina telling him not to, Newt couldn't help but worry. When she greeted them earlier, he noticed that there were small bags under her eyes, and sitting down, her posture wasn't as straight as usual.

It looks like his instincts had been right, when mere seconds after Tina left for her class, Queenie stealed into Kowalski's making a bee-line for them with fire in her eyes.

She had her hair up in a bun and expression set with a slight frown, wearing a champagne-pink tulle skirt, and carrying a tupperware cradled in her elbow. Her ballerina flats didn't give her an advantage in height over Newt, but he thought her as ferocious as a snow leopard.

Seeing the two visibly frightened boys, Queenie softened her expression and tried to regain her good spirits.

With a bit of courage, Jacob decided to ask if she was here for her sister and if so that Tina had already left, but that she could stay for sweets if she'd like.

"Especially since you look like you was craving for a cookie, and someone ate the last one," he offered.

"Tina was knitting last night," she says by way of explanation. Waving off their confusion, she continues to explain the reason for her presence.

"I actually wanted to have you taste this." She thrusted the container she was carrying to his friend. From what Newt could see, it seemed to have cream pasta inside. "If it's good enough, I was hoping I could apply here to work, that is if it's alright with you honey? I promise I'm a good cook."

Jacob knew that for a fact, as he'd already tasted Queenie's strudel and even some of her other signature dishes. Her cooking wasn't only delicious; it was magical.

She'd actually playfully suggested about expanding the menu of the coffee shop to make into a full-blown café while he had walked her to her dorm. He wouldn't mind having her aboard and he knew his _babushka_ would like her too, but she seemed to be uncharacteristically frantic.

"Hey, hey," he says in what he hopes is a comforting tone, "Before that, you can tell us what's bothering you first. I'd love it if you worked here, but it's kinda sudden," seeing Queenie's apologetic look, he hastily clarifies, "Not that there's anything wrong with that. If you've gotta problem, Maybe Newt and I can help." Jacob points his thumb at Newt behind him, nodding his assent.

Queenie bites her lip, hesitating, but looking touched as well. "Teenie like to knit when she's sad or frustrated. Something happened two nights ago," Newt gulps audibly, "and I only just got her to tell me about it last night."

Jacob looks between the two, confused, but doesn't interrupt. "Teenie doesn't like telling people about how we grew up 'cause she doesn't like them pitying us…" she begins hesitantly, looking at the two of them for some sign, and Jacob is swift to reassure. "Don't feel pressured that you have to tell us doll. But just so you know, nothing you could say would make us treat you ladies any different." Again, Newt nods empathically.

Queenie's eyes moisten slightly, but a luminous smile graces her face, making her all the more lovelier. "Don't be silly. You're one of us now." She addresses Jacob, but it's clear that she means the both of them. How queer to feel a fluttering in his chest thinks Newt. He's never been part of a unit.

"Anyway, me and Teenie lost our parents real young. We kinda had to raise each other," seeing their heartbroken expressions, she says, eyes soft, "Aw, don't be too sad. It was a long time ago."

"It was hard on her being the older sis. She had to take a lot of part-time jobs here and there. She's juggling being both a TA and an RA, on top of finals, and with everything that happened…" she stares meaningfully at Newt, who can only avert his eyes in shame.

"Wait, what happened?" asks Jacob, still confused.

"I'll tell you about it later honey," she says as an aside, "So yeah, that's why I was hopin' to work here; to help Teenie out, at least a little bit," she admits proudly. She stares at Newt, gaze unbroken, and he tries to meet it face-to-face.

Jacob, sensing their need for privacy makes like a tree and leaves ("I think that's the timer. Be back in a jiffy.") Queenie looks at his retreating back gratefully.

Now alone with Tina's sister and the words he tried to hold back come spilling out, "Queenie, I'm..!"

But the fairyesque girl merely shushes him, "I know what you're gonna say and how you feel Newt. I don't think it's gonna work and I'm sure Teenie already tried, but I'll say it anyway; Don't. Don't feel guilty cause this 'aint on you. Teenie makes her own decisions," she declares, full of confidence in her sister.

In the face of such will, Newt can see the similarities between the siblings despite their vastly different preferences. No one could mistake the two of them for anything other than family. "But you knew that already didn't you?" she asks him coyly. "She's an independent woman, my sister. You sure it doesn't scare you off?"

Newt, flushing, shakes his head vigorously and Queenie smiles. "I know you're a good guy and I know you wanna help, so I'll tell you two things." Newt stands in rapt attention to listen.

When she first saw the scene of Teenie knitting and furiously untangling and retangling her knots, she asked who it was she had to blackmail. Teenie doesn't approve of those measures she knows, but information is Queenie's power (it's funny how often people underestimate a 'dumb' blonde) and she will use everything she has to protect the only family she has left.

"Credence' mom – Mary-Lou, that's her name – she's always had it out for Teenie, ever since last year when she got in between her and Credence just as she was about to hit him. She wasn't rude or anythin' but it was just right by the school entrance so the ma'am probably got embarrassed." Queenie didn't see the scene herself, but just hearing about it saddened her as much as it had infuriated Teenie at the time.

"Also, I don't know how all of this connects, but I heard from Abernathy that Teenie's been trying to see Graves for a while now – to talk about Credence, and then I heard from some of the guys at the Philosophy Department – that's Credence' department – that Graves sort of hung out there and the two of them would walk back to the dorm together." Queenie shrugs, trying to see the bigger picture and coming to a mental block. It was Teenie who was the detective between the two of them.

But every Sherlock needs a Watson, and she tries to hide a grin behind her hand as she spies Newt, hand under his chin, concentrating on the new information.

"And about that advice," she starts, momentarily startling Newt out of his pose, "Teenie needs all the help she can get. But she's stubborn so," she winks at him, privately wishing him good-luck, "Just don't be too obvious about it."

ooo

Newt recalls his conversation with younger Miss Goldstein, contemplating her words as he walks the elder back to the dorms.

He hadn't had the heart to wake her at first, clearly exhausted and splayed all over the table, her sensible hairclips, three in a row to keep her bangs away, now askew and square framed glasses making indents on her face because she hadn't even noticed to take them off.

But he had to, for the hour had grown late, and Jacob was in the midst of closing up. It was a task the both of them undertook together, but Jacob signalled to him with his eyes, before he even had to ask permission.

It was with a well-crafted reason that the girls and boys dorms were the same direction anyway, that had Tina consenting to Newt walking her back. Noting that she was only clad in a long white polka-dotted sweater and yoga pants, he then gallantly offered her his overcoat.

"I'm wearing thermals underneath, and it seems to me that you need it more than I do," she says, corners of her mouth lifting slightly, only a mere shade of the truly brilliant smile Newt knew she was capable of making.

December had creeped upon them, slowly and surely, binging with it a deep chill though snow had not yet made its fall. The trees dotting the stone pathway there were walking on were completely bare, mahogany skeletons in the dark. The light posts lit up their way with slight glow, along with the stars above them, each one stark against the inky sky, with no cloud in sight.

He couldn't fully appreciate the lovely night, as all his attention was focused on the girl beside him, ready to catch her, as she seemed about to topple over at any moment. He ached at how like a statue she was, weather-worn and heart-heavy.

A stone, a beat, and a step missed had her crumbling, and only Newt's reflexes preventing her from falling face first to the pavement. He had his arms around her, one clutching at her shoulder, the other at her elbow as he guided them to one of the double-sided benches in the courtyard.

Tina _hated_ it, having no control over her body, feeling weak and drained. He sat them both down, and she waited for the inevitable _'how are you feeling'_ s and the _'are you alright'_ s and then she'd have to answer _'i'm fine, i'm fine, i'm always fine.'_

But Newt didn't ask. He didn't say anything at all, and let her _be_. She could hear far-off voices; students ready to rest after a day of studying or a night spent partying. In the space between and around them, not a sound was to be heard, except their twin breaths and the chirping of cicadas.

"Did you know," he shifts, clears his throat, breaks the bubble of silence, "It helps some, sometimes to just let go." He picks at imaginary lint from his coat sleeve. "When I felt," he pauses, searching for the words, " _too much_ , I'd go into the forest near the school grounds, and I'd scream, or cry. And it was like dropping stones into a well. It didn't solve everything, but it felt less…heavy," Newt finishes somewhat lamely. He follows Tina's line of sight to their hands next to each other on the bench, waiting as she digests his words.

He can see her hand gripping the underside tightly as she whispers quietly, him having to strain to hear her. "I don't like crying in front of people."

Without a further word, Newt swings around such that he is back-to-back to her, though not at all touching. "Go ahead," he tells the girl behind him. He feels the same sense of urgency as he had that fateful day in the coffee shop, her pain overriding his shield of to-do's and don'ts. "I'd like to be here for you."

Sense returning to him, he hurriedly collects himself. "A-although if you'd prefer, I can stay at a distance and wait." He knew more than anyone the sacredness of space. Just as he'd stood to go, he feels a slight tugging. He glances at his fingers tangled with another', stilling his movements.

He remains. Her hand is quickly removed though there is but a breath's distance between her fingers and his on the wooden surface. As the notes of a sob begin to start, Newt tentatively curls his pinkie around hers, tethering her. "I've got you," he whispers softly.

Like a dam has been opened, Tina pours her heart out, not holding back as she cries and cries and _cries_ ; Newt looks up at the stars. The minute point of contact where he meets her is a nebulous link between them.

ooo

Tina was utterly embarrassed afterwards, but found that Newt was right, as she felt lighter. She wasn't worried about him using her moment against her, since she knew in her bones that he was a good sort.

Right at this moment he was dabbing at the stray tears caught in her eyelashes with an embroidered handkerchief he whipped out from one of his too-many pockets.

God, she probably looked awful, eyes, red-rimmed and hair, wild. She always looked put-together in front of everybody, but in the few days she'd gotten to know him, he'd managed to be allowed a glimpse of the side she'd always tried to hide. "Hormones," she says, sniffling. It's a weak excuse, but her lets her have it, along with a tumbler containing a warm drink.

"I'm no expert, but the collective opinion of people, and by people I mean females, far more wise than I is that chocolate makes everything better."

Before drinking, she examines the container. It's pale pink and liberally designed with paws around a dotted heart, containing the caption, _'The Way to My Heart is Paved with Paw-Prints.'_ Tina snorts, amused. "Good to know."

Newt's tell-tale flush makes a return as he attempts to explain, "It was a gift from Theseus – that's my brother – a sort of going-away present, probably meant as a joke." His fingers tap anxiously as he admits, "Though, I do quite like it."

Tina hums as she drink his brew, coffee roast threaded with ribbons of chocolate, a hint of cinnamon and milk. She smacks her lips, absurdly contented and feeling warmed from her heart down to her toes. "Mama used to make coffee, and we'd drink it together, the both of us. I wanted to stay awake to see Santa Claus." Tina tucks her chin above her knees pulled up, as she shyly shares an embarrassing secret of her own.

"To get your gifts?"

She shakes her head, brown locks fluttering in the wind. "We didn't really celebrate Christmas. Nah, I wanted to tell him off for sneaking into people's homes at night." Her grin is infectious and Newt can't help but mirror it. "Papa used to tell me it was bad for me, but I was a wilful girl, even back then." She nudges his arm with the tumbler, offering him a drink in camaraderie.

Newt sweats despite the cold weather. "Oh, umm..I actually don't drink coffee." He peeks at her from one eye open, ready for her divine judgment.

Tina looks gobsmacked. "You work at a coffee shop!" She is completely unable to believe it. Newt winces, "I much prefer tea really."

Tina's laughter peals out of her, and Newt covets the sound of it. "First the hankie and now, tea? Newt, you couldn't be more of a British stereotype if you tried!" Her mirth overflows, and Newt merely shrugs, but inside he is as joyful as her now that she has regained her vitality.

"Looks like I'll have to rescind your 'Coffee Buddy' title," she says all faux-sombreness, but seeing his slightly distraught reaction, she makes sure to say, "You know you're my friend, right? And that I'd do it again," it didn't need bear repeating what 'it' was, "for you in a heartbeat. I'd do it for any of my friends."

Tina hoped to have alleviated his remnant guilt with her declaration, and though Newt feels elated with their friendship, he also feels a complicated tugging in his chest at the word.

Deciding not to examine the feeling further, he says to her instead, tone cheeky, "You never know. Perhaps I'll convert you, make you my Tea Buddy one day?"

" _Never!"_

ooo

It seemed like they were on that bench for hours, just talking, debating the merits of coffee versus tea, and him pointing out the constellation of the moon goddess, though truthfully it was the only one he could name.

Maybe they had been, there for hours that is. He couldn't recall the time he had slept, only that he'd woken two hours later than what was his usual.

And it had to be today that he'd overslept for the first time in his twenty (and one) years of existence, finals in Animal Behaviors, construction going on in his usual route, resulting in him having to go out the school for an alternate path.

Yet, he couldn't help but be chipper, enjoy the toast in his mouth, which Jacob had thankfully given his hurrying roommate for breakfast, while running to make it to class with but fifteen minutes remaining to him.

Newt glances at his watch while munching. _7:16_.

' _Make that fourteen.'_ It was of no consequence; he had made good time and even if he slowed to a jog he'd make it before the rooster crowed.

Adopting a more leisurely pace, he thought back to yesterday, about a fact he hadn't brought up to Tina because he hadn't wanted to pry, though he was unbearably curious.

Credence had visited the coffee shop.

Though visit was putting it loosely. He had lingered outside, pacing from side to side. Newt observed how he would pause and peer into the windows as if to look for someone before resuming his shuffle. Newt made sure not to alert the boy of his gaze, only glancing at him carefully from the corner of his eyes. He had dealt with plenty of scared animals in the past. It didn't do to startle them, as they were liable to attack, though not to hurt but only to protect themselves. He'd wait till the boy was ready.

Eventually, Credence had left but that was fine with Newt. Everyone and everything had their own time. He wanted to befriend the boy and earn his trust, though the way to go about it was one that Newt hadn't yet decided on.

It was in the middle of his musings that a voice from somewhere above him caught his attention. "–ous, come on and let's go home already!"

He looked up and was faintly startled to see a young girl balancing precariously on a tree branch trying rather unsuccessfully to coax a black cat. Before he could do more to warn her and ask her to get down, the cat had hissed at her causing her to lunge back and put weight on the branch.

There was no time to think as the branch broke with an ominous snap. Newt had skidded, feet first, body following downwards, the friction causing multiple spots of pain to bloom on his back and the underside of his legs. He felt another sort of pain on his front as the girl fell on his stomach. He was relieved that he'd managed to cushion her fall, though he still winced in discomfort.

She then scrambled to get off of him, a litany of apologies on her lips. Trying to get his bearings, Newt attempted to sit-up, crossed-legged on the ground facing the girl he'd just saved. She could be no more than ten, thick black hair piled atop her head in braids, autumn leaves which had tangled in it, making a crown. He interrupted her to ask her name and what on earth she was doing in the wee hours of morning climbing trees wearing but a nightdress in the cold weather.

She paused, and faced him with her hands in her lap. "Mother told me not to talk to strangers," she says a bit warily. Newt detects an accent through her soft, lilting words.

"My name is Newt Scamander, miss, and you are?" He hoped that by introducing himself, he could gain her trust so he'd know where he could bring her home.

She laughs, small and tinkling. "No one calls me miss. My name is Yaya and it's nice to meet you Mr. Salamander. Thank you for saving me."

Newt smiles at her innocent goof. "Now, Yaya what were you doing up that tree, and on your own too. May I ask where your parents are?"

At the mention of the tree, she'd tuck in her arms together and scrunched up her face, but at the mention of her parents, her eyes widened. "Please don't tell on me." She muffled herself with her orange slip and Newt struggled to hear her. "-ina will be so mad."

Huh. "How do you happen to know Tina?"

Yaya looks at him as if he is someone silly indeed. "I said, FEE-na," she says, emphasizing. He could've sworn he heard...well no matter.

"So what were you doing up there Yaya?" He points above, to where the cat is now impudently grooming itself.

"I was trying to catch Curious." She says it matter-of-fact.

"But why were you alone?" When she looks down guiltily, Newt adopts a more calming tone. "I promise I won't tell on you."

"You have to pinky-swear when you promise." Yaya holds up her little finger, and Newt readily links it with his own (He cannot help but recall memories from the night before.)

"Why are you so red Mr. Salamander?" "I suppose the cold has gotten to me. I should've worn my coat. A good friend told me that I'd need it…" He ducks his head, embarrassed, and gestures for her to continue.

Unperturbed, Yaya continues her tale. "I was trying to get him on my own because I was the one who let him out in the first place." She glances at Newt as if waiting for reproach, but he continues to listen. "I was so excited that I'd get a new friend when Feena bought him for me, but he keeps on scratching and biting me. He was so mean! I let him out, but then I felt bad 'cause it's cold and what if no one gives him kitty treats? So I found him, but then he scratched me again." Yaya points at the scratches at her arm from previous incidents.

It's as if an electric current goes through Newt. Making a mental comparison between Yaya's scratches and Credence's scratches, he notes their differences. Whereas four claw marks mar her dark skin, it had been a criss-cross on Credence' pale flesh, however Newt clearly recalls that there had been _five_ parallel lines grouped together. Before he comes to a disturbing conclusion, it is imperative that he talks to the boy. But before that…

He puts a spare plaster on the girls scratch before helping her to her feet. He asks her quite serious, "Do you still want to be Curious' friend, even if it seems like he's a very difficult fellow?"

Though she's pouting, Yaya still nods her head, so Newt will do the best he can. He withdraws a sprig of something from his pocket and waves it at the black Serengeti, who straightens and leaps gracefully from the branch to paw at Newt's outstretched hand.

Yaya's face is full of wonderment as she exclaims, "Magic!"

"Is that a wand Mr. Salamander? May I please have one too?" She practically bounces on her toes in excitement.

Newt looks between her and the cat, and smiles. "Yes, you can have two or three. I'll even teach you how to use it. This'll help you be friends with Curious," he deposits the cat into her waiting arms, as well as three more of the sprigs, "Just wave it and play with him, make sure he becomes familiar with you. If he hurts you, stop playing with him, so that he'll know to be better behaved." Yaya drinks it all in.

"Remember though that magic won't fix everything, and that what's important is here," he points to her left chest, "If you have the desire to be friends and keep working hard at it just as you have been, I'm sure you and Curious will truly come to understand one another Yaya."

She grins widely, stretching her cheekbones. Clutching at her cat, though not too tightly, she tip-toes back into the townhouse parallel to the tree she'd been in.

She turns, and waves enthusiastically, seems to think of something and asks, "What'll I do when the magic runs out?"

He calls back, "Ask Miss Feena. She'll probably know where to get you some more." She smiles, and gives him a last goodbye, "Thank you so much for everything Mr. Salamander," before disappearing behind the wrought iron gates.

Newt feels accomplished and proud, which is a rare feeling for him. He's glad for his habit of storing catnip (and pellets and birdseed) in his pockets as he thinks on Yaya's ebullient smile. It is moments like these, sharing his passion, that makes him feel lucky to have chosen this path. He checks his watch again and his smile slips.

 _7:34_

" _Bugger."_


	8. Machiatto

The kid was here again.

Jacob wanted to call Queenie or even Newt, but he knew they both had exams that morning. Queenie had clued him it about the situation so he knew that the boy, Credence, was the key to the whole mess.

He wanted to do something, but he didn't know what. He feels a bit protective over Tina, even though he knew she could perfectly take care of herself. And it wasn't only because he was sweet on her sister (or that his best friend was also sweet on said dame, even if he didn't know it yet). He had plenty of female cousins and nieces so the feeling wasn't foreign. Plus Tina was his friend, and his best customer to boot!

Besides acing his Calculus finals, which he hopes will put a smile his once-tutor's face, maybe he could also help out with Credence, even if he's bound to get strange looks from the boy for initiating conversation. The kid had entered the store which was a step forward from yesterday when he just hung back, peering through the windows. His eyes as he look at the desserts displayed hold the same longing look as from yesterday.

He looks hungry, and Jacobs's never been one to ignore someone with an empty stomach. "Hey kid," the boy visibly startles, "Credence right? My name's Jacob Kowalski. I'm friends with Tina." He holds out his hand to shake.

The boy looks at it as if it might bite him, before carefully shaking it. He has a limp grip. Jacob tries to remember how Newt handled Mauler and tries to channel his soothing aura. "You feel like anything? You look like you haven't had breakfast yet."

He doesn't look at his eyes and Jacob is reminded of Newt when they first met. "Strudel? No? How 'bout pie? A bagel?" At the last one Credence sorts of lift up his eyes before looking away again.

"You've got good taste! Nothing's more classically New York like a good ole' warm bagel."

"I-," Credence starts, shifts, and wrings his hands, "I don't think I have enough money. Sir."

Jacob glances at the kid's hands and becomes worried at how violently he's pressing them together. Even when they didn't know each other that well, Newt wasn't this bad. The boy in front of him isn't just anxious, but scared, and he wonders sadly what kind of life he's lived to constantly feel that way. He thinks as well of the Goldstein sisters. He doesn't fancy himself a knight in shining armor because the two of them are strong women who don't need no man saving them. But if they want his help, he'll gladly give it to them, as well as to the boy in front of the counter if he'll let him.

"Hey, don't sweat it kid. We have uh-, a special offer for first timers! Drink and dessert on the house for when you come by later." Jacob's always been good at thinking on his feet. Maybe he can convince Credence to talk to Newt when he's on his shift. But now that he thinks about it, it _is_ a good idea for sales promotion.

As he's formulating how to implement it in his head, Jacob almost misses Credence' imperceptible nod. "What you feel like having on it? Cream cheese sound good?"

Credence nods again, and whispers under his breath, "Strawberry Jam."

It sounds like a question so Jacob answers him, "Yeah, anything you like." He smiles warmly at the boy, eyes crinkling. Credence seems surprised to see it, and leaves abruptly with a turn of his heel after a soft, "Thank you sir."

Jacob hopes he did good enough.

ooo

"Ow!"

Newt's glad he's in the backroom where the customers can't hear him. Less so for the reason he was there in the first place, trying to administer first aid to himself.

There had been no time that morning as he'd already been running late for his test. Perhaps it had been the adrenaline of saving Yaya, but after it had worn off, he felt pain in his back. He reached behind him and his hand came off with a bit of blood. Making a quick decision, he wore the coat he'd stuffed in his satchel to hide his ruined shirt. Pity as he really liked that plaid pattern.

There was no salvaging it, he now thinks ruefully, looking at the back after taking it off. There were tear marks from when he'd slip-slided and wood splinters had gouged the thread, as well as his skin underneath. At first, Newt thought he'd be able to fix himself up with no problem, but perhaps he could ask from assistance from Jacob, as he hears the pantry door open from behind him.

"Newt? Mrs. Kowalski said you were back here?"

Newt feels like a boy caught in the locker room. His ruined shirt, practically scraps, cannot cover how his whole upper half turns red as Tina surveys him, surprised.

He's never been ashamed of his scars. It's part and parcel of coming from a family who breeds and takes care of wild animals, but under Tina's intense gaze, her eyes bouncing from one to another as if to catalogue them, he feels bashful.

Tina, suddenly becoming aware of her scrutiny, turns red herself but doesn't look away. "Is Jacob back from his shopping expedition then?" He asks to break the silence if nothing else. He texted that'd he'd be away buying flour and strawberry jam, and left Newt in charge of the store.

"No, not yet." Tina's eyes narrow, focusing on his bloody back. "Where did you get those?"

"I, ah, had a little mishap." He says sheepishly, rubbing his head.

"Why didn't you go to the infirmary right away?" She sounds a bit angry, but Newt knows enough of her now to recognize that it is only born of worry.

"I had a test, and then I thought that it was a tiny thing to be bothering them about…" He trails off seeing the deepening furrow of her eyebrows.

"And so, you thought to take care of it yourself." She expels a breath, and shakes her head a bit. Though she looks exasperated, it seems to Newt a fond expression. She rolls up her sleeves and reaches out her hand to take the cotton and bottle of antibiotic from him. "Let me help."

"Ah, it's no problem really. I can manage on my own. I have first aid training so there's nothing to worry about." Newt wonders if he's babbling.

Tina raises her eyebrow sardonically. "As do I Mr. Zoologist, and though I'm sure you can manage, I'm also sure having two would make it a whole lot easier don't you think?"

Newt acquiesces to her sound logic, but it doesn't stop him from burning in embarrassment. He tries to think of Animal Kingdoms and mentally lists each scientific name alphabetically, but it doesn't stop the goosebumps at the first light touch of Tina's fingers on his skin.

He can feel her writer's callus from where the underside of her thumb brushes the slash he'd gotten from Niff. Platypus beaks may be flat, but their claws are sharp as Newt learned personally to his detriment when he tried to retrieve his pocket watch from Niff's greedy paws.

Tina's hands aren't dainty; they are rough, made hard from labour, but her touch is softer than a feather, and so, so gentle that it overwhelms Newt with feeling. He thinks surely she will make a great mother, tending to the scrapes of a far-off imagined young.

"Wh-what do you like to do in your free time?" Tina stills, probably confused at his abrupt question. Newt cringes. He should have read the Friendship 101 Guide, and if it wasn't written yet, he'd have Jacob write it, then study it religiously.

Tina thankfully doesn't leave him hanging. "I like to knit. When I was in High School, I was in the fencing club, though I don't get to practice much anymore."

Newt knows about the former through Queenie, though he probably shouldn't say so out loud, but the latter tidbit is something intriguing to add to his growing collection of Tina facts.

"How about you?" She now dabs some ointment to the lower part of his back, after having removed a few debris. Though Newt isn't looking at her, facing the wall as he is, he is attuned to her touch and can map the path her fingers take in his mind. She must be curious about his scars, as curious as he is about Credence and Graves and her relationship to them, but just as he refrained, she does the same and doesn't ask. "Besides rescue baby kittens from trees I mean?"

Funny she should say that…"I like to sketch, mostly my animals. My family owns a Wildlife Preserve back in England."

"Oh." She says in recognition. "The ones you drew? On the coffee foam?" Newt nods before realizing she cannot see him. "Yes, they were all animals from home."

"Wow. The scene here is probably positively domestic compared to what you're used to."

"Yes quite, though I've found plenty of inspiration all the same."

"You should show me your sketches later." Newt easily agrees, not at all hesitant to show his private world to her.

They continue on for a while, the silence now comfortable instead of awkward, before Newt asks again, "What's your favourite colour?" He'd worry if he was being too annoying with anyone else, but not so with Tina.

"Guess." Newt imagines her nose wrinkling and the corner of her lip lifting lopsidedly.

"Blue?"

She laughs a bit. "Most people would've said gray. Anyway, isn't that _your_ favorite color Mr. Peacock Coat?"

"Peacock? Oh," He catches sight of said coat laid out beside him on a small table, "Well actually, that particular shade isn't peacock blue, but rather a specific pigment invented by this artist called Mr. Klein…"

"Go ahead, I'm listening." Her hands no longer touch him, and Newt spies her cutting cloth into bandages.

"Um, yes, as I was saying, he made a painting composed of only this colour. He was so passionate and worked tirelessly to reach his desired shade, that he eventually copyrighted it. I was fascinated when I heard the story as a child, that when I found a coat with a similar colour, I immediately bought it and it became my favourite one ever since."

He's never talked about something as inconsequential as colours with someone else before, but he feels that Tina understands the weight of the story he's shared with her, and won't scoff or shy away from his eccentricities.

"Though that shade of blue isn't really my favourite colour either. It's yellow, or to be more specific, butter yellow. You know how there are certain colours that make one feel a certain way? It was the colour of the first jumper I received from my mother." He remembers a hazy memory of bright Christmas lights, him but a toddler of five and his brother already nine. They had fought, and he had cried, but after his mother put the jumper over his head and let him wear it, he had felt warm. Ever since, he associated that colour with comfort.

"You waxed poetic about it, and it isn't even your favorite?" She sounds incredulous, as she places the bandages around his back. "Though I do get what you mean. Blue isn't my favourite color either, but it has a special significance to me. Every year the house would be blue, I'd know it was Channukah and it was always the happiest for me, Queenie and my parents." Newt didn't mean to make her remember her parents, but she sounds wistful instead of sad, reminiscing on happy memories.

"So what _is_ your favourite?" He asks her as she turns and tries to wrap the bandages fully around him, asking him to lift his arm slightly. She sits on the stool conveniently placed in front of him and they are now face-to-face, his bare chest parallel to her sweater-clad one. She hadn't even bothered to take off her coat before moving to help him with his predicament. He no longer has it in him to be more embarrassed, but his face is still flaming; even a firetruck wouldn't be able to cool him down now.

Tina has both her palms laid firmly on his chest, as she studies the collection of scars found there. He doesn't even care that she'll see how red he is – It's too late to pretend otherwise – as he wants only for her to look up so that he can see a hint of brown. When she finally does, they both become still, suspended by a gaze and words unsaid.

Her cheeks are dusted with pink, the same colour as her lips, unblemished by rouge. Lovely as they are, it is her eyes that always seem to have him mesmerized (after her rare smiles). He can count each individual eyelash, fluttering like butterflies' wings.

When he first met her, he thought her tiny, but it seems his initial impression was off. She is almost as tall as he is _(larger than life)_ and when she looks straight at him, into him, he realizes he can never escape her gaze. (Does he even want to, is the question?)

ooo

 _Would it be weird to say that her favorite was the precise color of his eyes?_

When he first asked, she didn't really have an answer as she'd never really thought on it before. But then they made eye-contact and it had been the first time she was so close to him.

His eyes were-there was no other word for it, _arresting_. They were beautiful and captivating. They reminded her of the sea and they reminded her of home.

When Tina and Queenie were young, they had favorite blankies. Queenie's was of course pink, with teddy bears, while hers had a blue-and-green tartan pattern. The sections where the blue overlapped with the green were the exact shade of his eyes, and Tina couldn't help but feel nostalgic.

When Tina had first entered and saw the scars on his back, yes she had wanted to help, but (and she will never admit this, to herself or anyone) she had also wanted selfishly to touch. Tina was glad that Newt trusted her enough to let her.

Each line intersected and criss-crossed with the numerous freckles on his back forming mini-constellations. As she maps his history carefully, she remembers vividly, a starry night not so long ago, when she'd been anchored after feeling like she had been drowning.

It comes back in full force, that feeling, as she gazes at his strange blue-green eyes. She who has rarely been scared of anything, undaunted by broken bones and a near expulsion, is suddenly so fearful of drowning. She is frightened of venturing too far out; for her own sake, she must stay ashore.

Her introspection comes to an end as an answer is waiting to be given. She is the first to break away, with slight movement. The moment ended, he now looks to the side of her shoulder, even as she stares straight ahead, and murmurs, "Green." He glances at her discreetly. "It became my favorite, just recently."

ooo

He makes good on his promise to show her his sketchbook, and Tina is full of wonderment looking at the detailed illustrations. The fine arts students of the now extinct Thunderbird department would have weeped with envy if they saw his illustrations. It's as if each creature is alive, and Tina wouldn't be surprised if they leaped out from the pages.

Some are colored in, though most of the animals are rendered in pencil and charcoal. She recognizes Mauler, each individual hair captured as it stands on end, but it is the drawing in the page after that Tina is drawn to.

It is an unbelievably large bird of prey, if its wingspan is to be believed, which Newt has painstakingly detailed and annotated with measurements. One sketch shows it mid-flight, powerful wings unfurled, while another shows it perched on its stand, majestic and imposing. There is something scribbled at the bottom of the page which Tina can't decipher.

Tina traces the drawn feathers reverently, then looks at Newt. "That's Frank," he states ever so helpfully, though Tina has to chuckle, because honestly, Frank?

"You name a cat 'Mauler' and this-"

"Californian Condor. They're native to North America and Arizona."

"Uhuh. You named a Californian Condor, Frank?" It bears repeating because she really needs to clarify.

Newt looks a tad defensive as he replies, "It's a perfectly good name, Frank. Fitting for a king even."

She wonders briefly why she finds it so easy to laugh with Newt. "Yes, yes, so very dignified for His Highness."

Newt lips curl to tell her that he isn't insulted. "Would you like to see him?" He asks, suddenly excited.

"Hmm?" Tina replies absentmindedly, fingers still on the page.

"Tomorrow, at the shelter." Newt remembers his manners, and tries to ask more properly. "Would you like to accompany me perhaps?"

She looks at him, then back at the drawing, and at him again. "I'd love to."

"Ah-yes, well, that's good then."

With nothing more to say, Tina prepares to leave, but Newt asks her to wait a bit, so she does. Carefully, he rips the page containing the drawing of Frank and deposits it in her hands. She is surprised at the action.

"Um…It's not drawn on coffee, but perhaps it can suffice. Due to their enormous size, people had mistaken them for mythological birds, Thunderbirds they were called, during times past. The Thunderbird was a Native American icon, and a symbol for glory, and-and I want you to have it since you seem to really like it."

Her eyes soften as he looks at him fidgeting. Tina now knows enough of him to recognize that Newt rambles when he's nervous. She understands that this is him saying 'good luck' and 'I'm supporting you' in his own, Newt-ish way.

Impulsively, she kisses his cheek, lingering there for a moment longer to whisper "Thank you" against it, before leaving in a rush. She doesn't look back.

But if she had, she would have seen him touching the spot where she'd been, as if to catch the imprint of her lips.

ooo

Later, Newt finds himself on a bench with Credence during his spontaneous break.

He supposes he has chance to thank, and of course Jacob, because his brilliant friend has somehow finagled a way for the two to have this conversation.

He had been surprised to see Credence at the café eating a bagel, and the macchiato he'd just brewed prior. He was supposed to be balancing books, but Jacob had dragged him out front to introduce him to the boy, as though they've been involved in the same incident, formally they've never met.

Jacob had left them to it, and Newt sensing that the boy would probably not like to have this specific conversation inside a crowded coffee shop where just anyone could hear, he leads them to the quad, still carrying the records and a pen.

It has been thirty minutes now since they've sat down, but Newt doesn't mind. For all his faults, he's always been good at waiting.

Finally, "I am so sorry Mr. Scamander, sir." The boy's voice is trembling and his whole body is stiff.

"May I call you Credence?" Newt asks carefully not to spook him. When he nods, Newt continues. "I accept your apology Credence, though may I please ask you to explain?"

"I…lied. When, when I said I tripped over your cat." Newt nods. "Why is that?" He asks, mindful not to sound accusing.

"I didn't want to tell the truth to…," he looks both ways as if afraid someone is eavesdropping, before whispering under his breath, "Mr. Graves."

Newt looks thoughtful as he waits for him to explain.

"It was my fault. I was so stupid. So stupid." He grits out vehemently, and Newt lets him lash out. "I wasn't supposed to be out my room so early in the morning, and then I fell and he was the first one who found me. I di-didn't want him to worry or ask about the scratches on my neck and I panicked so I told him a cat did it." He then looks at Newt guiltily. "I'm in the room below yours and Mr. Kowalski's, and I heard the meows through the ceiling."

"I thought he'd just let go of it you know. Most people don't care when I get hurt, but not Mr. Graves. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to get you, and especially, Miss Tina into trouble." He takes in big gulps of air, and Newt rubs his hand rhythmically against his back, hoping to calm him. If he feels any discomfort at all, Newt will take it off.

With most of the pieces now on the table, he can start putting the puzzle together. From what he's learned from Queenie, he can suspect where the scratches came from, and his conclusion is an incredibly unpleasant one. As to the mark…

"Would you mind if I asked where the bite mark came from?" Credence flushes violently, turning the same colour as the bruise and he gets his answer.

He feels daft, not realizing it sooner, after his experiences with Theseus' various girlfriends and boyfriends throughout the years. It was the same scene, a different person stumbling out his older brother's bedroom with a mark on their neck, Theseus sometimes having a matching one. He flushes, the same as Credence.

"I apologize. I didn't mean to intrude in your private affairs. I won't tell anyone if you don't wish it." It hadn't been his intention to humiliate the boy.

"Mr. Graves isn't mad at you, and he's usually really fair. It was just..he was just doing his duty, and, and it was my fault for lying to him in the first place." Newt is distressed by the mental comparison he can't help but make between Credence and his past self. _(Leta didn't mean anything by it! She'd never hurt anyone!)_

Percival Graves is a shrewd man. He would have made the connection, just like Newt had, but he still let an innocent and even a comrade take the fall. For what purpose? To hide something? To throw away suspicion from himself? Or attention? Perhaps it is unfair of him to make these judgments, even if they are only in his head since he doesn't know the Head RA as well as Credence, or even Tina. No matter his suspicions, he won't hurt Credence further by giving voice to them.

"I believe you when you say you are repentant, but you do not owe _me_ an apology if what you say is true." Credence meets his eyes and nods.

"I will try to be understanding of your circumstances, but right now Tina is in trouble. I won't excuse my own folly, as I'm as complicit as you for the circumstances that have led up to this, but though I will do what I can, it's _your_ honesty that will save her." _She makes her own choices_. This time Credence has to make a choice as well.

He is terrified as can be evidenced by his unceasing trembling, and though he mutters shakily for Newt to let him have time to think about it, he has faith that the boy can also be brave.

Newt continues to rub his back until he calms down and his breathing evens. He would be content to accompany the boy in silence if that was what Credence wanted, but Credence catches his attention by pulling on his coat sleeve.

"Um..Mr. Scamander?"

"Yes, Credence?"

"The figures," he points to the records clasped in Newt's hand, "They're unbalanced." He then withdraws hurriedly as if afraid to be berated for speaking up.

Newt considers his calculations intently, but cannot make head or tails of it. "I wouldn't have noticed. Thank you for pointing it out."

"C-can I?" Newt passes on the pen and book to Credence, who begins to write and count with his fingers.

"You're quite fast." He compliments him and he seems to bask in the praise.

"I-I help Ma out with the books at home. I'm in charge of budgeting for me and my two younger sisters." Watching him become focused, Newt catches on that numbers are Credence' safety net, and is inspired by an idea.

He waits until the younger boy is done, the two sitting together on the bench, amidst the falling snow.

ooo

 _Dear Mr. Scamander,_

 _I'm excited for tomorrow. I think it might be my first time in an animal shelter, and though I've been to zoos before, it'll probably be plenty different._

 _I'll meet you at the gate by the HS building._

 _Sweet dreams._

 _Sincerely yours,  
Tina_

 _P.S. Reason #9 Coffee is Better than Tea: It doesn't taste like grass._


End file.
